


To know the sun is there

by alexscarlet



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Fear of parenting, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Parent-Child Relationship, Psychological Trauma, and have a son, c!Ranboo and c! Tubbo are married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-24 22:22:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30079227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexscarlet/pseuds/alexscarlet
Summary: After all he'd seen and done, Tubbo was certain he didn't want children.
Relationships: Ranboo/Toby Smith | Tubbo
Comments: 5
Kudos: 163





	To know the sun is there

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Fyodor Dostoevsky:
> 
> "I can see the sun, and even if I cannot see the sun, I know that it exists. And to know that the sun is there - that is living."

He'd never wanted children. By the time he was old enough to consider it, he'd already lived through multiple wars, and he wanted no part in bringing a child into a world so dark and twisted, so full of fear. He'd dwelled so long in that darkness, committed so many unforgivable atrocities of his own, ones that plagued his every waking moment, that he'd been convinced that any life he gave to a child would be no life at all. 

But then here's Michael. 

Here is Michael, whose eyes light up when he enters the room. Here is Michael, reaching his arms up, demanding - with the sweet stubbornness of a child safe in the knowledge of its own self-importance - to be carried. Michael, with his trusting little face, who pats his cheek as he picks him up and settles him on his hip. He nips at Michael's fingers gently and Michael squeals happily, kicking his little trotters in excitement. He smiles helplessly in response. 

Michael, his son. 

The high-pitched squeals bring Ranboo to them. His husband's eyes find his quickly, and he watches as fear drains out of them and is replaced by so much love it's overwhelming. He has to look away because it's too much; he focuses on Michael, pretending that their son is commanding all his attention. He smooths a hand over Michael's head gently and Michael leans into the feeling like a contented cat seeking further attention. 

Sometimes, when he holds Michael like this, all he can think about is how easily he could hurt him. A careless movement or a careless word: some deeply buried but persistent darkness in him whispers temptation. He doesn't know why its so tempting - the thought of destroying something so fragile and so beautiful - but he thinks maybe it's because he doesn't know what other conclusion exists. In a world like this, full of so many threats and full of so many horrors, with the past he hauls around with him every day, it seems impossible that Michael's life should end in anything other than pain. At least if he did it, he could make it as painless as possible. At least if he did it, he wouldn't be haunted by questions of how and why, and was he to blame? He'd know it was him, no running, no excuses, no scapegoats. He'd know he was doing it to protect him.

Michael makes a small noise of frustration, squirming to be put down. He lets him go. The second Michael is on the floor, he trots over to his box of bricks, picks one up, and takes it over to Ranboo. 

"For me? Thank you so much! That's so generous and thoughtful of you, Michael." Ranboo coos, crouching all the way down to be closer to Michael's eye level. Ranboo's voice when he talks like this always makes him feel like he's wrapped up in blankets, floating high above the horrors of the earth, sunlight shining down on him. He wonders if Michael knows how special it is, to be spoken to like that, or if Michael has only ever been spoken to like he's precious. They don't know anything about his life before they found him, wandering in the Nether, lost and weak, so he supposes there's a high chance Michael has suffered cruel words and actions before, but at least not in Michael's memory; after all, who remembers being that small...except in lingering feelings. He can't remember anything from when he was that young, but sometimes, late at night, when Ranboo is away and Michael has been fast asleep for hours, he recalls being in that box. Not a physical feeling - not the mud under him or the rain seeping through the overhanging dirt and splashing onto his face, or the gnawing hunger - but the emptiness, the tragic acceptance, the feeling of total and utter abandonment. He wonders if Michael ever recalls that feeling. When Michael wakes them up in the middle of the night, crying, is it because of the monsters under the bed, or because he remembers being lost and completely, utterly alone? 

Thinking about it makes his heart squeeze tightly in his chest, and he finds himself sitting down next to Michael and Ranboo where they're playing together on Michael's colourful playmat, and reaching out to pull Michael into his lap. He makes a silly noise as he does it, dodging Michael's flying limbs to blow raspberries on Michael's tummy, drinking in the sound of Michael's giggles and Ranboo's fond laughter until the emptiness inside him is temporarily becalmed. 

"If you ever feel alone, I'm here. Dad's here." He tells Michael, when they've settled down and Michael is sat happily in his lap, stacking bricks into towers. 

"We're here." Ranboo says, voice heavy with meaning, taking hold of one of his hands. He squeezes Ranboo's fingers tightly, letting out a quiet, stuttering sigh. 

"Yeah. We're here." 

**Author's Note:**

> I am having a very rough time at the moment and a solid 70% of my will to live is dependant on DSMP content ngl. Huge thanks to all the CCs for making life a little easier to bear, especially Ranboo and Michael my beloveds.


End file.
